


Cops and Robbers

by Whatsastory



Series: Trope Me, Baby, One More Time [13]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mickey is not, ian is a cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsastory/pseuds/Whatsastory
Summary: "How many strikes you got now, Milkovich? I'm tempted to trump up some bullshit charges just to keep you locked up a little longer. Sick of your shit," Ian growls as he finally tugs at him to lead him to his parked squad car."Wait," Mickey breathes and plants his feet. "Don't."
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Trope Me, Baby, One More Time [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668712
Comments: 35
Kudos: 207





	Cops and Robbers

It's been a long day, and Ian is tired to the bone. The utility belt is a lot heavier than you might think; the baton itself has a good heft to it, let alone the cuffs, gun, taser and other little miscellaneous gadgets he's got littered around it. His uniform is scratchy- as polyester blends typically are- and his Kevlar vest is causing him to sweat in places he didn't even know existed. 

He's had a bad day, already. Having had multiple calls for drunk and disorderly will do that to a guy. Drunk people are decidedly not fun if you yourself aren't drunk, after all. 

He's a little sore, too. The last call of the night he'd managed to get himself head butted in the mouth as he was cuffing the drunken idiot, and it split his lip. It's fine, though, because he'd gotten the privilege of adding assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest to the guy's charges. He never thought he'd say it, but getting revenge on paper feels a little better than getting your revenge physically. 

He's ready for fucking bed. These late night shifts are killing him, after a couple of years of working them. He feels isolated half the time, spending his nights on shift and his days sleeping it off. 

So, he's a little confused at first when he trudges up the steps of the tiny little house he'd finally bought, and sees Mickey fucking Milkovich looking shady as hell in the shadows near his front door. 

"The fuck are you doing?" He asks as he ascends the stairs. 

"Shit," he hears Mickey mutter, followed by the sound of something dropping. 

"What's that?" Ian clicks on his heavy duty flashlight and shines it at the box that Mickey's dropped, seeing the label clearly displaying Ian's name and address. 

"Nothing. I don't know," Mickey says and rubs his thumbnail across his lip. 

"There a reason you're out here at four in the morning?" 

"No," Mickey says all too quickly and raises his eyebrows. And realization washes over Ian. And it's so fucking obvious that he feels a little stupid that it took him this long. 

"Are you fucking porch pirating? From a fucking cop?" Ian spits and shines his light right in Mickey's face, lighting up his usual blue eyes a demonic red. 

"Fuck you, Gallagher," is all he gets back. 

"Stealing from a cop. Stealing from me? You thought you'd get away with it, you fucking punk?" 

"I'm not scared of you, firecrotch. Never was before and I'm definitely not now. Couldn't give a shit less about what you think you know," Mickey says defiantly, pushing his shoulders back to make himself look bigger, but Ian sees through the bravado. It's not his first run in with Mickey, and it sure as hell won't be the last. 

"Put your hands behind your back," Ian instructs and takes his cuffs from his belt. 

"Ah, yeah. About that..." Mickey says and scrubs a hand over his face. "Not gonna do that." 

He takes off, pushes past Ian and jumps the steps, legs carrying him just as fast as they'll go out of the small yard and onto the cracked sidewalk. Ian starts running, too, with an unexpected jolt of adrenaline. 

Ian's always been faster than Mickey. When they were kids on the same little league team. When Mandy sent Mickey to lay a beat down on him. He's always been able to outrun Mickey. And now that he's arguably in the best shape of his life, thanks to the academy and a rigorous training schedule? No contest. 

He catches Mickey quickly and tackles him on a neighboring lawn, using his weight to try to subdue the wriggling body beneath him. And Mickey's strong, he'll give him that much. They wrestle in the grass slick with dew for a good few minutes, and Ian's a little ashamed to say that Mickey gains the upper hand more than once, but not for long. 

"Smells like fucking bacon," Mickey grits out as he rolls his way on top of Ian, but Ian uses Mickey's momentary lapse of focus to flip him down face first onto the ground. 

Ian uses his knee to push into Mickey's back to pin him while he gets the cuffs, and slaps them on to Mickey's wrists. 

"Get the fuck off me, pig!" 

"You should come up with some better insults, Milkovich. Jesus, you sound like a 1980's gangster wannabe," Ian pants as he hauls Mickey to his feet. 

"Fuck you," is all Mickey says as he continues his struggle. 

Ian pushes him up against a nearby light post so that he can catch his breath. He's a little tougher than he needs to be as he cups his head and uses his weight to push Mickey's face against it, hoping that it'll shut him up for just one fucking minute. 

"How many strikes you got now, Milkovich? I'm tempted to trump up some bullshit charges just to keep you locked up a little longer. Sick of your shit," Ian growls as he finally tugs at him to lead him to his parked squad car. 

"Wait," Mickey breathes and plants his feet. "Don't." 

"Don't what?" Ian asks and leans across Mickey's shoulder so that he can see his smirk and quirk of his eyebrow. "Take you back to jail? What, you don't want a family reunion?" 

"Again, fuck you. Just. I don't wanna go back." 

"So what do you propose, here? I just let you go free? After you tried to fucking rob me?" 

"You weren't home. I didn't rob you. Technically I burgled, officer," Mickey sneers. "And no. We could, I could do something for you. To make up for it." 

"Burglary implies you broke into the house, dumb ass. Now you want to add bribery? Man, you're really asking for it, aren't you?" 

"Ian." The earnestness, the softness of his voice causes Ian to pause, and he licks his lips as he thinks over his options. 

"It’s officer Gallagher... What are you thinking?" 

"I dunno. Probably the same thing you’re thinking. Word on the street is you like to fuck dudes, officer Gallagher," Mickey says hoarsely. 

"Oh, that's the word, is it?" 

"Yeah. And maybe I like to fuck dudes, too. So. Y'know. Let's talk about it." 

Ian rolls his eyes but diverts his trajectory from his car and back to his house. He pushes Mickey forcefully up the steps and holds him firmly in place as he unlocks his door before shoving him through the threshold. 

"So you like to fuck dudes, huh?" Ian smirks as he flips the light on. He leaves Mickey, still cuffed, in the middle of the room as Ian goes about his normal routine of taking his boots off, leaving them by the door. He unbuttons his uniform shirt, careful of the shiny silver badge, and tosses it aside. He's left in just his plain white tee shirt that sits beneath his bullet proof vest, tactical belt and his uniform pants. 

Mickey's quiet for a moment, eyes raking up and down Ian's svelte form and licks his lips before blurting, "I take it."

Ian can feel the smile taking over his face; the absurdity of the whole situation falling over him in waves. Mickey Milkovich, standing in the living room, cuffed, professing his willingness to take cock. If only he could show this scene to his fifteen year old self. 

“Take what?” He asks simply because he has the upper hand and he can. 

“Don’t make me say it, asshole,” Mickey mutters, still keeping his eyes trained on Ian. 

“I mean, I can still take you in...” 

“Cock. I take cock. Up the ass. In the mouth. Wherever you wanna put it... I’ll let you.” 

“Mmm,” Ian growls and walks a slow circle around Mickey, just to get a real look at what he’s working with. “That’s not good enough. I don’t want you to just ‘let me’. I want you to want it,” he says lowly in Mickey’s ear before he keeps up his languid pacing. 

It’s almost predatory, the way he’s eyeing him. Sizing him up to find the best way to devour Mickey whole. He didn’t see his night panning out this way, but he can’t say that he’s upset by the change in plans. 

“I do,” Mickey assures, though it comes out a little shyer than Ian ever imagined Mickey could sound. “Want it. Whatever you wanna give me. I want it.” 

“Jesus.” It’s a whisper of a word, but Ian hears his own heartbeat in his ears as he says it. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Mickey would be standing in front of him with a bitten lip and lustful eyes. The Ian of his youth would have already come in his pants. 

“Okay, Milkovich,” Ian sighs, mind made up. “But I’m not gonna be so easy on you next time.” 

Ian puts his hand on Mickey’s head, just as he would if Mickey were being loaded into the squad, and pushes him down to his knees. Mickey goes down with a grunt, but looks up at Ian with an excited glint to his eyes that Ian decides he very much likes. 

Ian smiles back down wickedly, licking and biting his bottom lip before he drags his hands up his hips and to the clip of his utility belt, slowly unclipping it and placing it delicately the nearby coffee table, making certain that none of his weapons are in any danger of making an appearance. Next, his actual belt is unbuckled, dangerously slow before he rips it from his belt loops. His gives it a quick snap and tosses it carelessly to the floor. 

“How long you gonna make me wait, cocksucker?” Mickey asks even as his breathing is kicking up and his chest is heaving. 

“Mm, don’t think I’m the cocksucker, here, Milkovich.” 

He opens up the button of his fly, and lets his hands fall to his sides once more, eyebrow raised in a dare. 

“You gonna take it out or what?” 

“No. You do it.”

Mickey scoffs. “Kinda tied up here, in case you didn’t notice,” Mickey spits and clatters the cuffs behind his back. 

“Your teeth aren’t.”

“Fuck...” Mickey breathes and slowly leans forward. 

It takes a little bit of finagling before he gets the zipper between his teeth, but he does, because he’s a go-fucking-getter, and he knows how to get shit done. 

Ian is merciful, and as such, he tugs his pants down his thighs, but leaves his boxers for Mickey to handle, breathing raggedly as he looks at the man literally at his feet. 

“Fuck, you keep this up and I might never have to haul your ass in again,” Ian smirks as Mickey bites his shorts and tugs them down. 

Ian springs free and Mickey’s eyes go wide. Ian’s pretty proud of what he has, never gotten a complaint, and he gives it a few strokes to really show it off. 

“S’not gonna suck itself.” 

Mickey looks up, locks eyes with Ian, and gives an experimental little lick to Ian’s head, and Ian shudders. Mickey gives another lick, this one with a flatter tongue from the base to the tip. 

He gives a bite to Ian’s thigh, just because, just to remind Ian that he’s a little dangerous, and then takes him fully in his mouth. He doesn’t blow like other guys Ian’s been with, a mechanical up and down with predictable movements. Mickey is much more... enthusiastic. 

He alternates between sucking hard, sucking deep, laving his tongue around the head, popping off to pay attention to Ian’s testicles. He’s hands down the best Ian’s ever had. 

Ian puts both hands on either side of Mickey’s head, tugging his hair between his fingers and thrusting his hips slowly. 

“You wanna fuck my face?” Mickey asks, taking Ian’s little hints and rolling with them, because of course he does. 

“Fuck yes,” Ian moans and takes Mickey’s slackened jaw as an opportunity to really start moving. 

He can hear the clatter of Mickey’s cuffs as he struggles against them, all the while his body rocks back and forth with the force that Ian’s giving him. He gags, and Ian pulls back, but Mickey shakes his head and dives back in, ever the trooper. 

It doesn’t last long, and how could it? Mickey’s fucking dynamic and wonderful and sensational and just, ugh. 

“‘M gonna come,” Ian says and starts to pull back again. 

“No. Want it,” Mickey pleads and dives back in literally face first as Ian finishes.

Mickey sits back on his haunches and looks smug and sexy as hell, and Ian watches him for a moment in awe. 

“You gonna...” Mickey asks and jiggles the cuffs. 

“Jesus, Mick. Who knew you were so into role play? Remind me to cuff you more if it’s gonna get me blown like that,” Ian laughs and grabs his keys. 

“Yeah, remind me to rob you more if it’s gonna get you to rough me up like that,” Mickey grins and rubs at his wrists. 

“Shut up. You can always just ask next time... Not like you live here or anything. A plus for creativity, though.” 

“Enough with the chit chat,” Mickey says. “You got any fuck left in you, or you dump it all down my throat?” 

Ian smirks and rolls his eyes before spinning Mickey around and pushing him towards their bedroom.


End file.
